Still Beautiful
by mimithereader
Summary: (Prompt: A Stydia pregnancy prompt and Lydia is insecure) Stiles doesn't understand. Like, he really doesn't understand. Okay, sure, he knows that Lydia isn't his girlfriend, he knows they aren't actually together. Not together together anyway. But they were together. Even if it had just been one night in his jeep, they had been together. And now he doesn't understand.


Monday, August 5th

Stiles doesn't understand. Like, he _really _doesn't understand. Okay, sure, he knows that Lydia isn't his girlfriend, he knows they aren't actually together. Not _together_ together anyway. But they were _together_. Even if it had just been one night in his jeep, they had been _together_. And now he doesn't understand. He can't understand why she won't talk to him, why she won't even look at him.

He knows these things happened, he isn't naïve. He knows one-night stands are meant to be just that: for _one_ night. But this doesn't feel like a one-night stand type situation – or at least it hadn't at the time. Sure, it was less than romantic, their bodies crammed together in the backseat of his old jeep, their hot breaths and body heat fogging up the windows. It hadn't been planned, obviously. It was something that happened in the heat of the moment on one of the last Fridays of their summer vacation. It all happened so fast, but she had been fine with it at the time. He was sure of that, he would never take advantage of anyone, let alone Lydia.

So her pretending he didn't exist, well, it was confusing.

Well, he'd just have to try again after school.

Monday, August 5th 

He couldn't find her after school.

Tomorrow it is.

Tuesday, August 6th

He waits at her locker for her before school, but she never shows. He tries between all of his classes but has no luck. Even in the classes they have together, he can't catch her. She all but bolts out the door the second the bell rings. He doesn't understand.

Monday, August 12th

They're a week into their senior year and Stiles has not managed to say a single word to Lydia. She practically sprints away every time he sees her.

It's fine though. It is. He knows when he isn't wanted.

Friday, September 13th 

It's been 56 days since they had sex. 56 days and Lydia still won't even look at him. He thought they were friends. Well, guess they're right – you shouldn't ever sleep with a friend.

He still doesn't understand.

Monday, September 16th 

He's out in the preserve with Scott, celebrating Scott's eighteenth birthday with a bottle of whiskey. Scott doesn't drink, there's no point, but he knows Stiles. He knows Stiles has been off lately, knows it has to do with Lydia. And if it takes copious amounts of alcohol to get his friend to open up, well, Scott's willing to risk underage drinking.

It takes only two swigs straight from the bottle for Stiles to start talking, words not yet slurring. He talks about Lydia. Scott isn't surprised. It isn't hard to figure the two haven't spoken this year.

"I just don't get it, ya know, Scottie?"

"Don't get what?"

"Her. Girls."

"Nobody gets girls."

"But she's different, man."

"She is."

"Just, why? I don't get it."

"Why, what?"

"Why would she sleep with me?"

Scott shrugs, not sure the right way to answer that question. He doesn't know why Lydia slept with Stiles, Scott never thought she showed an interest in Stiles, at least not romantically.

"I'm not sure, Stiles," Scott answers, deciding that honesty really is the best policy.

"Gee, thanks, Scott," Stiles responds sarcastically, a bitter laugh burning his throat.

Scott rolls his eyes, but takes the bait.

"You know that isn't what I meant, dude."

"Oh, you mean you weren't trying to say, 'Stiles, bro, I have _no_ idea why anyone would sleep with you'?"

"You know I wasn't," Scott says simply.

"I know," Stiles says, letting out a frustrated sigh. "Maybe I just did something wrong."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. I don't exactly have a plethora of experience when it comes to the whole sex thing, Scott. Maybe I was just…bad?"

"Bad enough that she won't talk to you?" Scott asks mockingly.

"Scott, I'm being serious! Maybe I hurt her or something!"

"Did she sound like you were hurting her?" Scott asked more seriously, dropping the teasing at the hint of desperation in Stiles's voice.

"I – I don't think so."

"I'm sure she would have told you if you were hurting her. I wouldn't worry about it too much, man."

"Really, Scott? _Really?_ Your great advice is 'don't worry too much about it man'?! Scott!"

"What?" Scott says, sounding affronted.

"How can I just not worry about it? I lost my freakin' virginity to her!"

Scott looks hard at his best friend, notices in the moonlight that his eyes are shining slightly.

"I'm sorry," Scott says immediately because he is. He's sorry that his best friend is hurting, sorry that it's another friend who's causing the hurting.

"It's fine," Stiles says quietly, discreetly sniffling. "It's not like I was expecting something super romantic, you know? I'm not a lifetime movie character. I don't need roses and everything being perfect. I wasn't hoping for true love" he said in a bitter way that makes Scott think that maybe that's exactly what Stiles had been hoping for.

"Still. It's a shitty thing for her to do, dude."

"Yeah," Stiles agrees, not really believing it himself. He couldn't find it in himself to fault her, not even now. "I should have known that she wouldn't be interested me. Why would a gorgeous, popular girl actually want to date me?"

"Hey, don't do that. It isn't you, Stiles. You're a great guy, she would have been lucky to date you."

"God, you're cheesy," Stiles teases, but Scott knows he appreciates the sentiment.

"She would be. I mean it. Hey, maybe she knows it and just can't handle your awesomeness."

Stiles just rolls his eyes, but he can't stop a smile from spreading across his face.

"I'm sure there are plenty of girls who would love to spend quality time with you in the back seat of your jeep," Scott jokes.

"God, why do I tell you anything?"

Tuesday, September 17th

Stiles goes to school hungover. Actually he might be dying, there is no way this insane explosion in his head is just from the alcohol. Even though he did drink nearly a third of the bottle by himself.

He thinks he sees Lydia glance at him in English class.

Maybe he's actually still drunk.

Friday, October 11th

It's been 84 days since they had sex.

Nothing has changed since everything changed.

She still won't talk to him, won't look at him, but he's noticing how much she's withdrawing into herself. When she shows up to school wearing jeans and a baggy sweater with her hair in a ponytail, face sans any trace of makeup, Stiles _knows_ something is wrong.

Lydia Martin does not wear jeans.

He asks Scott at lunch to try talking to her. Of course Scott has been ignoring her in solidarity and wasn't keen on the idea of making peace with a known traitor, but Stiles had asked and, well, Scott has a long history of not being able to say no to Stiles.

Tuesday, October 29th

"You need to talk to him, Lydia," Scott tells her emphatically. "He deserves to hear it from you."

She takes a deep breath, adjusts her unbrushed ponytail, and walks deliberately to the boy she's avoided for weeks.

"Can we talk?"

Stiles whips around to face her quickly, nearly dropping his textbook in shock. He runs through the gamut of emotions before he settles on anger. Yeah, angry feels about right.

"So you're talking to me now?" and he can't help the bitterness that bleeds into his voice. It's been 84 days. She has it coming.

"I am. Let's talk," she says firmly, unfazed.

"No. No, you know what? Let's not. Or better, I talk and you listen. I don't know what the hell is going on with you. I really don't. And I have no idea what I could have possibly done to you, but you haven't been fair. I get it if you didn't want to date me or something, but God, you could have just said that! You could have said anything! But no, you've been too busy completely avoiding me."

"Stiles - "

"No, it's my turn. You don't get to just walk over here and expect everything to be forgiven, Lydia!"

"No, Stiles, you don't understand - "

"You're right! I_ don't_ understand! I so don't! So please, please explain it to me! Explain why suddenly you act like I'm not worthy of even talking to! You didn't even give me a chance! You - "

"I'm pregnant."

"-what?"

"I'm pregnant."

"…oh," he says lamely, doing nothing when she walks quickly away.

Later that night

Stiles is pacing his room frantically when his father gets home. John stands in the doorway for a couple of minute, watching his son walk back and forth without noticing his presence.

"You alright?"

His dad's voice breaks him out of his thoughts and Stiles nearly jumps a foot in the air.

"Uh, I, um, yeah. Fine. Totally fine."

John raises a skeptical eyebrow before asking, "Yeah?"

"Uh-huh. Everything's a-okay."

And John knows that's bullshit.

"What's going on, Stiles?"

"Promise you won't kill me?" Stiles says half-jokingly, biting nervously at his bottom lip. John hates conversations that start with that question.

"I promise not to actually murder you."

"…Okay."

John waits patiently, leaning against the doorjamb, but Stiles isn't talking.

"You didn't forget how to speak, did you?" he asks, half-teasing, half-concerned.

"Lydia's pregnant," Stiles blurts out with his usual tact.

"Oh," John drawls out, eyebrows rising in surprise.

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm gonna go pick up a pizza. You want pepperoni or - "

"No, dad."

John stops moving, looks back at his son.

"I _got_ Lydia pregnant."

John's jaw drops and it's a solid minute before he can pick it back up again.

"You did – you did _what_?" John grits out, voice bordering on anger, not sure if this is one of Stiles's dumbass jokes.

"I'm sorry. Oh, God, I'm so sorry. We used a condom. I don't know how it happened. I'm so sorry, I didn't think anything would happen. Oh god."

So not a joke. Definitely _not _a joke.

He sees how Stiles can barely catch his breath as tears start streaming down his face. He crosses the room quickly, tugs his son into his chest and prays.

Wednesday, October 30th

Stiles walks into the hallway and can literally feel the eyes of the other students on him. He sees Lydia at her locker. She looks up at him before turning and heading in the other direction. Scott walks up to him, eyes wide.

"They know?" Stiles asks him, already knowing the answer.

Scott nods in return.

He just found out yesterday and now the entire school knows.

Great.

Monday, November 11th

Lydia hasn't been at school, not since everyone found out. Stiles has been worried. He's sent her countless texts, tried calling a few times a day. Hell, he's even stopped by her house a few times, but each time is a dead end when Ms. Martin answers the door and tells him her daughter's not well. Stiles knows she knows, he can tell, but there's no judgment in her expression, no anger in her tone.

Thursday, November 14th

The sixth time Stiles stops by he gives Lydia's mom a book to give to her.

Lydia is confused at first when her mother hands her a book on learning Hebrew. But then she remembers a conversation from a long time ago. She had told Stiles she plans on learning the language as soon as archaical Latin gets boring. There's a sticky-note on the inside cover, it simply says: _If you're going to be home for a while._ It doesn't say "I miss you" but Lydia gets the feeling it's what Stiles meant. It's a weird gift. Sweet, but strange, just like Stiles himself and Lydia can't help but smile.

Monday, November 18th

Lydia isn't surprised when Stiles sits beside her in the cafeteria during lunch. He sits down like he belongs there. She thinks that maybe he does.

"So where've you been?" he asks causally, easing the question into their one-sided conversation effortlessly.

"Sick," she says simply.

"Oh…like morning sickness?"

"Yes, Stiles, because since I'm pregnant the only possible explanation is morning sickness," she bites out and she feels guilty when his cheeks burn red.

"I didn't, uh, mean to offend you," he offers quietly, staring at the table.

"I know," she sighs.

Tuesday, December 10th

Stiles is always there. He helps carry her books, waits for her in the parking lot, comes over to help her study. She should be annoyed with his ever-presence, _wants _to be annoyed with him, but she can't. She can't because every time she starts to get irritated with him she sees his wrist and the hair tie he keeps on it religiously. It's there for her, if she gets sick in class like she had weeks before and has her hair down. She's heard people ask him about it and he always just shrugs, says it's "just in case." She can't get mad at him.

Monday, January 13th

They're back in school again. Christmas break was uneventful for the most part, both of them spending Christmas with their respective families, but they find time for each other. They spend most of the second week off curled together on one of their couches marathoning bad movies on Netflix.

Thursday, January 23rd

She's almost six months along and not even her baggiest sweater does anything to hide that bump. Naturally, she's getting more stares and naturally, she's getting more upset about it.

She's sitting next to Stiles in the cafeteria when she hears a couple of girls whispering about her. She tries to shake it off at first, but then she hears one of them whisper loudly, "I know, she used to be so pretty" and that does it. She stands up, abandoning the lunch Stiles had brought for her and rushes off to the bathroom. Stiles follows after her, not before shooting the girls the dirtiest look he can muster.

He walks into the girls bathroom, uncaring, and knocks on the door of the stall he knows Lydia's in.

"Lydia?"

She doesn't answer but he can hear her crying.

"Please come out?"

"Just go away, Stiles."

"Not a chance."

"Leave me alone, for once, please just leave me alone."

He hesitates, considers doing as she wishes. He knows he's been around her a lot, all the time really. But he can't leave her crying in a bathroom stall.

"Lydia, please."

It takes another 15 or so minutes of coaxing but she eventually exits the stall when he threatens to go in there. He hugs her while she cries and wipes the mascara from her cheeks when she catches her breath.

They're nearly twenty minutes late to their next class. Neither of them care.

Tuesday, February 5th

Things have been okay. They've been okay. Lydia still refuses to wear anything but sweaters, doesn't dare to show anyone her quite large stomach. They stay in most weekends because she doesn't like the way people look at her, hates people asking to feel her stomach. She really only lets Stiles touch her, she likes the way he presses kiss after kiss to her stomach when the baby kicks, likes the way he rubs her skin like she's the most precious thing in his world.

She shows up at his house around six in the evening, asking him to go to Macys with her, saying, "Maternity clothes, duh" when he gives her a questioning look.

When they get up the escalators inside the store Stiles comes to a halt, words sticking in his throat.

There are balloons everywhere near the perfume display. Three employees are holding a decorated banner that reads: _Go to sadies with me? _

Stiles can't stop smiling, nodding his head yes and bending down to press a soft kiss to Lydia's mouth. When they break apart she smiles up at him and he returns it ten-fold. They might be having a child, but it's their senior year and Lydia will be damned if they don't go to at least one dance.

"First prom, now Sadies, are you going to end up proposing to me in this Macys?" Stiles jokes.

Lydia just grabs his hand, still smiling, because somehow along the way marrying Stiles stopped seeming like a crazy idea.

"You know I'm going to be even fatter by the time the dance comes, right?" she asks him in a way that's supposed to be jokingly, but she can't help her insecurities from rising to the surface.

He squeezes her hand in his.

"I'll still think you're beautiful."


End file.
